


the world will live as one

by breadknee



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Afterlife, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Parent Tony Stark, Post-Endgame, Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark-centric, bro when i say there's major endgame spoilers i mean the entire ending, do not come and attack me if you don't read the tags, peter and morgan get their well-deserved hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-26 22:55:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18726517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breadknee/pseuds/breadknee
Summary: THIS FIC HAS MAJOR AVENGERS: ENDGAME SPOILERS.Tony and Natasha wait, hand-in-hand, on that tiny beach.





	the world will live as one

**Author's Note:**

> Note: if you do not like discussions of the afterlife, freak about the concept of life after death, or are uncomfortable with death overall, do not read this fic. I've warned you in both the tags and here, and any complaints will be deleted.
> 
> The fic title is inspired by John Lennon's "Imagine."

Tony let his bare feet sink into the cool sand. He can’t really tell what color it is, to be honest. Tan? White? A mixture of all the neutrals?

Trailing the soft beach, hands tightly clenched in his pockets, he thinks back to April.

Distantly, he can feel the way the power surged up his arm, crackling through his blood and bone. The press of dirty fingertips on his skin as Pepper and the kid tried to rouse him.

_The kid._

Sometimes he thinks back to things he said, phone calls he ignored, and the constant buzz of Peter’s energy around the lab as he had him fetch this and that. What’s the kid up to? Did he start applying to MIT? Is he even _going_ to college this year, or has Tony put a pause on all that?

What about Pepper? Morgan?

“Tony.” He doesn’t turn. There’s no need to. “You know, all you have to do is ask to see them.”

“Does that change anything?” He shrugs half-heartedly. “It’s not like they’d know we’re here. Out of all the times I considered the afterlife, which wasn’t very often, mind you, I didn’t think it’d be connected to the heart of the soul stone.”

Nat steps forward to join him at his side, her toes wiggling in the sand. She looks young, soft, and so, so carefree. Nothing like the assassin she once was, all those years ago. But that hardness, the way life treated her so harshly time and time again, still sits heavily on her shoulders and brings a hesitation to her eyes.

“Still, it’d be nice to know how they’re doing, wouldn’t it?” She swings her arms up into a stretch, eyes focused on the pink sky. “I check on them sometimes.” He starts to feel the way she’s starting to manipulate him, coerce him into checking in on those on Earth. It’s not unkind, but it stirs an anxiety in his gut.

“Bruce?” It’s a terrible thing to say, but it’s true. He knows she checks on the big guy sometimes, reminiscing in ‘what could’ve been.’

“Clint,” she corrects quickly, dropping her arms, “his kids. Your kid. Though I like to think you have more than one.” Tony glances at her from the side of his eye.

“I’m pretty sure I can keep count of my children, seeing as there’s nine months to be sure of it.”

A playful smile teases the corners of her lips. Usually, he wouldn’t be inclined to ask, but there’s not much else to do. Time moves strangely here.

“How many would you say then?”

“Three, I think, if you count Harley.” She looks at him with a disapproving glint in her eye. “You know it’s true. You treated Peter like your own.” He drops his gaze to his feet, suddenly wishing he had some sort of shoe on. He hates sand. The grit gathering between his toes shoulders memories of Afghanistan and blistering heat, the loss of a dear friend and return home to another.

“Alright, say I have three kids,” he says and crosses his arms, deciding to play along. “That doesn’t make it any easier. Dying wasn’t easy, you know that. Leaving them. Pepper. Doing it willingly didn’t mean a damn thing.”

She’s quiet for a few moments, the breeze buffeting their hair. It’s a lot longer now, reaching her mid-back. Briefly, he wonders if that’s where she would’ve kept it if she didn’t have to go on missions or be an assassin. Hints of blonde slip through the red, showing how much time she spends lingering in the warm sun.

“Sometimes I check on them,” she says instead. “all of them, and see what they’re up to. Peter’s gotten a new award in school. Built a killer robot, I hear. They say it’s named after you.” Nat glances over at Tony, smiling. “Something about that kid is familiar, though he doesn’t have as much of the dickishness.” He chooses to ignore that.

“Building robots, is he? As long as he’s sure he’s got all the right numbers down, and calculates the best way to shoot projectiles at just the specific speed to take down the others-“

“And you say he isn’t your kid.” All Tony can do is sigh.

The only reason he doesn’t disagree entirely is because it’s true. He does consider Pete as one of his kids, and he’s damn sure he and Morgan would get into shitloads of trouble. Pepper wouldn’t complain, she’d just give him that special, soft smile and give him another plate to serve burgers with, pressing a kiss to his stubbled cheek. Morgan would show Peter all of her special comic book collections.

…

 

_“Mr. Stark, woah, she has like, all of them!” Peter gently gathers up all of the Spider-Man comics, pressing them closer to Tony’s face._

_“I bought them,” he says, swatting them away and setting down two servings of his best dip and chips. “Do you know how hard it is to find that one in print? Had to ask all over and pull a few strings.” Peter stares at him in awe, even as Morgan leans over to steal one of his chips (despite literally having the plate he_ just _sat down)._

_“That’s so cool! Thank you, Mr. Stark!”_

_“They’re not even_ yours _.”_

_“Yeah,” Peter replies, shrugging. “But that doesn’t matter because she needs them more than I do. We can just read them together, yeah?” The question’s directed at Morgan, and Peter turns his head to point it at her, but Tony finds himself nodding along anyway._

_A devious smile spreads across Peter’s face as he points at the advanced Nerf gun Tony as modified. Several of them, actually. “What’s that?”_

_“These are for_ after _you’ve finished your food. Not before, not during. After.” Tony presses them further behind his back as he sinks a handmade tortilla chip into the dip. “Besides, both of you are gonna need the energy for this. It’s a fight you’re not going to want to miss.”_

_He pops the chip in his mouth as Morgan and Peter start shoveling their food in, excited for whatever he has planned. If Morgan gets a small, secretive wink from Tony, then so be it. They’re a team, and Spider-Boy’s about to get pummeled._

…

 

“I wouldn’t push, Tony, you know that, but I think you should check on them.” He feels the press of her palm on his arm, the urgency beneath the touch. “They can’t see you, you know that, but it helps to know everything is going fine. That _they’re_ fine.”

He pats her hand, flashing her a pained smile. Despite his hesitation, the urge to see Pepper and the kids (he’s given up calling them ‘Morgan and the other two brats’ for now) pushes him to walk forward. The stone glitters awake at his presence, opening the door to reality just enough for him to peer through. Nat sticks to his side, having dropped her hand to grip his own in a comforting gesture.

Tony breathes in heavily and sighs. Then, he looks.

…

 

Peter nudged Ned lightly, pressing his elbow into his ribs. “Oh, come on man, you don’t mean that!”

“Dude, you literally spent all class staring at her. She’s not stupid. She _saw_ you.”

“I wasn’t – no. I was reading the board?” It’s a weak attempt, and Tony cringes. _Terrible liar._

“You’re the worst liar.” _See?_

“Uh, well, actually, I’m a _great_ liar, seeing as you didn’t know about the whole ‘thing’ for a while.” Tony sees the devilish glint in Ned’s eye before Peter can, and it fades into one of innocence.

“What ‘thing’?” Ned drops his voice to a low whisper, glancing around anxiously. “Are you on your period or something?”

“Shut _up_ , oh my god.” Pete runs a hand down his face in exasperation. “You know exactly what I mean.” He mimics the shooting of spiderwebs, twisting his wrist around like, well, an idiot.

“Oh, you mean _that_ thing. I get it now.” Ned cracks his façade with a grin and earns himself a staggering punch in return. “Hey! That hurt, man, it really did.”

“Whatever,” Pete says, rolling his eyes. Tony watches as he stumbles on the stairs ( _Idiot,_ he thinks), and is about to pull back and rejoin Nat when he sees the kid’s bag. It’s slipping off his shoulder and swinging haphazardly as he slips on the stairs (which is definitely what’s pulling him down, since he refuses to wear it with both straps), but he sees it.

On a dangling keychain, glinting in the afternoon light, there’s a tiny arc reactor jostling about on the zipper.

Something about it has Tony’s throat closing up as he tries to swallow down the overwhelming grief and love threatening to surface.

God, he’d been so fucking stupid to think they’d just roll over his death and act like everything’s normal.

He keeps watching.

…

 

When he reaches Morgan, Peter’s already there.

(Time is finicky with the soul stone, it tends to jump either forwards or backwards with no real care for the viewer. Guess it’s technically not the time stone, but it gets the job done.)

“Hey, kiddo, what’re you doing up?” Peter lets the notebook stretched across his lap slip onto the carpet, tossing his pen onto the table as he stretches his arms out to wrap Morgan in a bear hug.

“ _You’re_ up.” Her voice makes Tony’s eyes sting, and it’s almost enough to yank him out of the scene, but Nat tightens her grip on his hand and helps him ground himself. He gives her a thankful squeeze in return.

“Uh, I was just doin’ homework and all that.” He swipes back a brown lock of hair from her eye, fixing her little bow with a gentle smile. It’s a smile only someone who was completely caring and loving could give.

“Robots?” She offers helpfully, her fingers toying with the zipper on his open jacket.

“Yeah, robots.”

They’re mostly quiet for a few moments, Peter rocking her back and forth with slight murmurings about his day, Morgan fiddling with his jacket and adding helpful commentary on the state of his school life.

“Do you think Daddy can see us?” Peter stops rocking. Tony can see the way his mind digests the question, trying to think of ways to reply in a slight state of panic. Fortunately, she doesn’t wait for him to reply, but instead rattles on, “I think so. Every time I eat a cheeseburger, I think of him. Happy says they’re his favorite.” Tony doesn’t miss the present-tense she uses. (It’s technically true, they _are_ still his favorite.)

Peter rubs circles into Morgan’s back. “Mr. Stark wouldn’t go a day without thinking about you, kiddo.” _He’s right._

_But Peter, what about you? You’re my kid too._

Tony suddenly wishes he could push through and ask a question, ask Peter why he doesn’t include himself in this, why he thinks he wouldn’t be one of the kids.

Fortunately, he doesn’t have to.

“You too,” Morgan says suddenly, loudly, and sits up without warning. She nearly knocks Peter in the chin by doing so. His hand freezes on the small of her back, wrinkling her kitty pajamas. Her hair sticks up in clumps from leaning against his chest. “Daddy thinks of you too.”

“I’m not so sure about that, Mor, I think--“

“No.” Tony can hear the rise of her voice, the hint of a tantrum no one can shush or rock away. Terrible (beautiful, hilarious) memories of using cookies and rockets to soothe her wisp by.

“What?”

She takes one of her hands and presses it against his chest. Instead of where his actual heart would rest, on the left side of his body, she touches the center. _Right where an arc reactor would sit_ , Tony thinks, swallowing hard.

Morgan’s fingers curl into a fist in his shirt. Tony can see tears welling up in her soft brown eyes, those that look just like his own. Peter wipes away an invisible tear, chewing on the inside of his cheek as if they’re his fault.

“You’re my brother,” she says softly, simply, as if it’s common knowledge. Peter lets it sink in before he nods, once, and rests back against the chair. Morgan follows suit, sinking her head into the crook of his neck with a sleepy sigh, and lets the wrinkled shirt loosen in her grasp.

“Okay.” Peter uses a hand to comb through her hair, humming the _Star Wars_ tune like a lullaby.

“Okay,” he repeats, but she’s already asleep, so Tony’s not really sure who he’s talking to.

…

 

When he sees Pepper asleep in their bed, on his side, something in him cracks the cheerful, nonchalant mask he’s held onto for so long. Instantly, everything in him wants to crawl his way to her, to wrap his arms around her and press his nose into the crook of her neck.

_Even like this, she’s so beautiful_.

Her hair is stretched across the pillow, much longer now, and the moonlight highlights her skin just enough for Tony to make out her features in the dark. Looking at her is like staring through water, and all he wants to do is drown in it.

She can’t hear him. He knows this, but he tries anyway.

“I love you, Pep,” he croaks, slamming his fist against the invisible wall of the stone’s sight, rippling the scene. He’s momentarily worried he’s made it shut off, but it clears up to reveal her again. She breathes out slightly deeper, flipping her body to lay on the other side, and his heart clenches.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, sorry, sorry. I shouldn’t have left you, but it was the only way. Strange said it was the only way-“ He breaks off, taking a moment to squeeze his eyes shut and inhale sharply.

“I love you.”

…

 

Leaving the stone after an extended period of time is like resurfacing from a bad dream, and he spends the next few seconds stumbling in a frantic haze.

“Tony!” Nat digs her fingernails into his skin.

“Huh? What – oh. Nat.” He leans forward (when did he sit on a rock?) and presses his face into his hands.

“It’s a lot to take in afterwards,” she supplies gently. “Sometimes, the stone won’t show me who I want to see, but who it thinks I need to.” Tony drops his hands to look up at her. “Who did you see?”

“Pepper,” he says first. “God, she was so beautiful.” Nat nods, sitting down next to him as he rambles on. “Then the kids. Pete, first. He was leaving school. Fuck, Nat, he had an arc reactor on his bag.”

“No one’s forgotten you, Tony, and it’s still not any easier for them. You were important to them.”

“Morgan.” Nat wraps her arms around her knees, drawing them closer to her chest. There’s a wistful look in her eye, and Tony vividly remembers her desire to have kids at some point. He continues on anyway, because he doubts she wants to talk about that now.

“Morgan was sitting with Peter in the living room, at our house,” he cringes at the ‘our,’ as it’s not entirely _his_ anymore, “and it was pretty late. Morgan asked if he thought I could see them, or think of them. She called him her brother.”

“Well, he is.” Tony flashes her a crushed look, the weight of the events over his head. “Don’t look at me like that. You might’ve had Morgan with Pepper biologically, but you were the only father to Peter he’s had in a long while. Why do you think he called you, everyday, relentlessly?”

“I miss them,” he just says, breathing out a sigh into the salty air. She doesn’t answer, but reaches to take his hand. The waves crash against the cliff nearby, drawing their eye.

And they wait.

 


End file.
